


Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 1 (Book II)

by Wodric



Series: Dune: Paul’s Women [15]
Category: Dune (1984), Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Frank Herbert's Dune (2000)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Mother-Son Relationship, Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wodric/pseuds/Wodric
Summary: Chapter's summary:Paul Atreides and Jessica still wait for Ducan in the stilltent. The long wait leads to a new path of consequences. Paul fulfils the rites of passage.See chapter 22: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169348 (End of Book I)See chapter 2 (Book II): https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251389





	Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 1 (Book II)

Paul’s Atreides Women

Book Two: MUAD’DIB

Chapter 1

When my father, the Padishah Emperor, heard of Duke Leto’s death and the manner of it, he went into such a rage as we had never before seen. He blamed my mother and the compact forced on him to place a Bene Gesserit on the throne. He blamed the Guild and the evil old Baron. He blamed everyone in sight, not excepting even me, for he said I was a witch like all the others. And when I sought to comfort him, saying it was done according to an older law of self-preservation to which even the most ancient rulers gave allegiance, he sneered at me and asked if I thought him a weakling. I saw then that he had been aroused to this passion not by concern over the dead Duke but by what that death implied for all royalty. As I look back on it, I think there may have been some prescience in my father, too, for it is certain that his line and Muad’Dib’s shared common ancestry.

"In My Father’s House," by the Princess Irulan

 

"Now Harkonnen shall kill Harkonnen," Paul whispered.

He had awakened shortly before nightfall, sitting up in the sealed and darkened stilltent. As he spoke, he heard the vague stirrings of his mother where she slept against the tent’s opposite wall. Paul imagined her naked body that was hidden from him by the darkness. He remembered again her experienced hand to travel along his body. To grab it. To caresses and fondle it. To lead him were he was not used to go. In those moments he felt totally lost in the pleasure that she was offering to him. It was her gift. It was also her prove of love. But in some moments Paul also thought, in those sparking moments that he could rationalize, if he wasn’t just receiving another lesson from a Bene Gesserit, and the fact that Jessica was his mother was irrelevant for the sisterhood.

No… it wasn’t that path. The Bene Gesserit had nothing to do with that…

“What was it Paul?” asked his mother.

“I was to remind me that night when you went to my bedroom, in the castle on Caladan!”

“The day we received the visit of the Emperor’s Truthsayer?”

“Yes. You know what I did after those moments with you?”

After a brief silence, she answered:

“You felt asleep…”

“After that…”

“Yes, Paul. I can imagine.”

“So… why didn’t you… helped me… like you did yesterday?”

“You know that the circumstances were different. I am your mother. I am… was the duke’s concubine.”

“But, you taught me how to kiss, you know that I wanted more…”

“Children always want more…”

“I am not a child…”

“No, you aren’t, and our enemies know that. That night in the palace, at dinner, the stillsuit manufacturer’s daughter was hitting on you… they had planned to lure you with sex!”

“I knew… and you knew that I knew…” Paul gasped... “but I could also lure her if I had the training…” Paul hesitated “there was a moment aht I wanted her! I wanted to kiss her!”

“But than Irulan arrived…”

“I didn’t train you for those juvenile fantasies. And that kiss, those kisses were not a train… you asked me for it…” Jessica’s voice toned down. “I also know that you wanted her… and Irulan, and Shadout Mapes. Several times I asked your father to provide a concubine for you. He always said that it was too soon. It was almost the only thing that we disagree about.”

“I asked for it… because I wanted to know how it is!” “I wanted to know!” “My dreams are almost real, but I cannot only know by dreams!”

His mind slipped to the past. He reviewed his past experiences with the women he knew. The first kiss with his mother, his mind jumped to that moment. For the explosions and waves of pleasure that his body had received when he first kissed his mother in the lips.

Again in the tent he gave a step on his knees and moved closer to his mother. His hands searched for her in the half-darkness. One hand found his belly and moved quickly up to cup a breast. The other found here hair and her face. He needed to kiss her again.

Their lips melt together. The first contact was almost violent. Their foreheads clashed in his eagerness to find her lips.

“Calm down” she whispered “calm down!”

She knew that the spice was affecting them.

He took a breath and penetrated her mouth with his tongue. She seemed more resigned than willing and he noticed it.

On top of her, embracing her, with his chest covering her breasts, his erect penis making contact with her belly, his legs between her legs, he took another breath. A longer one. Finally, he rolled over to the side. With his back in the tents floor, he looked to the tents roof without really seeing it.

His mind was away.

“You were right! I needed a concubine!”

“You know that you still need!” Jessica come again closer to him, she allowed that her breasts touched again his body. She rested his head on his chest. Slowly her hands move along his body. He was more relaxed now. She was in control again.

“I know that I will find one between the Fremen.”

One of her hands reached his member, but she didn’t stroke him, she just caress him, playing with his manhood, moving her light and warm hand, so she could grab and leave, changing constantly the contact and the pressure, cupping his testicles and playing and playing.

In that moment Paul needed to ask the question that was in his mind.

“Was father your first assignment as Bene Gesserit?”

“Yes, Paul” said Jessica without stopping her movements “your father was my first assignment”.

“When you were with my father… there were other assignments?”

“No. Your father was the only one, Paul.”

“But… the Bene Gesserit could have given to you another one, even if you were the Duke’s concubine?”

“Yes. That is not unusual. But I had a son against my orders. I was always more faithful to your father than to the Bene Gesserit School.”

He moaned with her manipulation.

“And how can the Bene Gesserit students understand how to please a man, if the men are not allowed in the school?”

Jessica finally understood where we wanted to arrive. She lifted her head from his chest. Allowed her breasts, pending due the effect of the gravity, brush his chest. Then she moved in circles and that up to press the breasts against her son’s face, smashing those perfect twin volumes and rubbing them up and down until his mouth absorbed one.

His hips jerked. He searched for more friction against her hand.

He was finally ready to hear her:

“Our teachers, like the reverend mother, are much experimented. And in the penultimate year we pick a classmate to train with her. Then again in the last year we are forced to chose another classmate.”

“You were lovers?”

“You can call them that” for a moment Jessica was sucked o the past and almost forgot what she was doing “but those young girls were much more than my lovers. We were classmates. We were partners.”

“You made love with all those women!”

She sensed in his words more excitement and surprise than repulsion.

“Did the Reverend Mother made love to you?”

Slowly she begun to move again. She removed her breasts from Paul’s face. Kissed him with the same passion that she had when she was learning with her classmates. In that moment she realized on thing that scared her. She liked to kiss Paul. She was having pleasure doing it.

“Help me!” he said, lost in desire.

She broke the kiss and moved down. Her breasts brushed his belly and went further down.

His penis was strong and slippery with so much water in it.

Paul felt his mother’s hot breath near his manhood. Locks of her red hair brushed slightly almost ticklishing his abdomen, his groins, his legs, his penis, his testicles…

He looked down. For a moment he thought that his mother would kiss his male member and would engulf it in her mouth. He missed that. But she had other plans.

Paul lay back on the ground, his penis raised to the air defiant. She groped it hugged it with her breasts around and let it rest between them, holding it against the torrid softness of her flesh. Her nipples engorged even more when she rubbed her breasts against him. Massaging and squeezing them against the virile member. Paul just stood there holding them against the penis with his hands. He delayed his desire, bite his lips, but his mother was too much experienced, and he would know that with all that motion it would arrive soon the time soon to come and in a long moan he would saw his seed spraying them, watering all around, reaching her face and her wetting her air. So he fought. She arose a bit so he could clasp both hands around her breasts. The nipples harden like a fruit pip in his mouth. They danced in the tent’s floor giving him time to slow down and catch his breath.

Finally she gave up, and stayed still, her back against the tent’s floor, her naked body all clearly visible. Her breast’s proudly defying gravity, her burning chest moving up and down at the rhythm of her breath. Her nipples moving up and down in a temptation to any man.

He covered her naked body with his own. Skin against skin. His chest against her breasts. The bodies matched perfectly even if he was slightly shorter. With his knees he spread her legs apart. His lips were in a position that he could choose between sucking her tempting nipples or raising his head to take her mouth. 

And his male member… his penis was almost touching here between her legs. Sometimes it would brush her skin to a point that he sensed her proximity, her wetness, her aroma.

Paul cupped her breasts raising them as huge mountains. Her nipples turgid by his suckling. And his hips moved forward. The tip of his penis touched her womanhood. He trembled on the contact and pushed forward.

She still hesitated while feeling him at the entrance. In one more thrust her lips slightly opened to his male head. He trembled again, smiled and tried to gain impulse, leaning on his knees. He was so close. He was almost there. Her scent was intoxicating.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes!” the desire of many years was condensed in that word.

Her hands moved down in his body, caressing him, until they reached his buttocks. She grabbed him, opened her legs wider, and pushed her pelvis against him, as her hands pressed more his buttocks. At the same time he trusted forward one more time.

His penis was hypersensitive. He slid in to a new world of senses and felt it enveloped in a nest of pleasure. She was already moist waiting for him. Her vaginal muscles squeezed him, sucking him to the depths of her being. Even when he was all inside, he still raised himself on his knees, trying to penetrate her even more, trying to merge their bodies with that link, like they were connected with the umbilical cord.

He screamed with pleasure in a victorious outflow. His hands pressed even more her breasts, her skinned was even whiter around his fingers pressure. His mouth covered her red lips and he took a breath inside her while trying to push her male organ even more to the inside of her deep.

Then, when it was impossible to be so deep, he didn’t want to move out, he just squeezed in a circle, moving his hips, dancing inside her. Finally he gave up, slid slightly out just to thrust again all the way in.

He made that once, and than another time, until the moment that he was completely taken by the weakness of his body. Paul begun to tremble almost uncontrollably, his penis jerked, shivered and spurted inside her, and he begun to deposit all his semen in her womb.

He was so in shock that he lost control. It was his mother that continued the rhythm, moving her hips, and milking him with her vaginal muscles, until he suckled a final moan at the same time a last drop of semen come out from him. He was drained.

He took a deep breath trying to recover. But his body was heavy in the post-climatic state. He hold his mother’s face in his hands a gave her a quick peck in her humid red lips. He tricked softly her lips. She showed a sad smile in her face and he also smiled. His smile was of victory, of satisfaction. It went too quick for him, but he couldn’t take it anymore after all the cumulated desire. Paul begun to slip out, but she arrested him with her arms and long legs.

“No” she said while moving her hips. “don’t get out…you will soon recover...”

It was again the teacher talking to the pupil.

Paul raised all his forces and begun to move again inside her. In an incredible way, his penis begun to recover, to gain life. He sensed his blood returning to his member, swelling it, while slowly Jessica move her hips again, made a pause, and moved again.

Her long beautiful pale legs wrapped him, allowing him a deeper penetration. He kissed her and felt her lips being perforated by her tongue. He opened his mouth and sensed her tongue entering him, playing with his own tongue, sucking it. Her lips, her tongue, her mouth explored his face kissing him, leaving a trace of saliva, of water. His penis trembled inside her each time she kissed him on his face, on his eyes, on his nose, with her lips brushing so tenderly is face.

There was no rush this time. There was no impatient eagerness. There was just there and then. Each pore of his skin felling the contact, the smooth friction, feeling the moment. Savoring the taste of her skin, her sweat. Smelling her sweet odor.

Jessica moved and they rolled on the tent floor so she could be on top. All the movement was done without disconnecting. Then she begun to ride him. Always slowly, quite slowly allowing him to recover from the strong orgasm.

She bent forward allowing Paul to choose from sucking her breasts or to kiss her lips, while her bouncing breasts were smashed against his chest. In that last position his hands run down her body to grip her ample buttocks.

Her long bronze hair was all over his face, like a tent inside the tent, covering her kissing faces in a way that were just the two inside their own world. 

It was a world where the only thing that mattered was moving the hips in unison. The felling of their sweaty bodies and drinking from each others mouths, kissing lips, sucking, fondling, playing…

Several times they increased the pace, in an spiral, like two fools living in a place were only pleasure mattered, in a continuous crescendo until he sensed that it was too much and he was on the edge again, he wanted to fill his mothers womb again, but she was experienced enough to find the signs and she slowed down the pace to a tender rhythm, a rhythm were the two were almost immobile, their senses fully awaken, were Paul could feel his member completely inside her, pulsing with life, feeling the warm humid nest around it, massaging him, always inviting, tempting, alternating paces.

The time had come that Paul didn’t knew what was giving him more pleasure if caressing his mother’s back, groping her breasts, milking them, squeezing them and suckling the engorged nipples, or grabbing her but, a fully warm buttock in each hand, forcing them to move against his body, forcing her to move her hips quicker and quicker, while he would dive his lips in her neck curve to suck and kiss or while he played with her long hair grinding it even more, or grabbing it to help to increase the pace.

While the lovers moaned, outside the time passed by, the day went by, indifferent to their pleasures.

But the time reached them. It was almost unexpected. Jessica didn’t foresaw it. After all those hours lost in that sexual limbo, Paul begun to gasp and tremble. His hands clasped her mother’s breasts again with a renewed intensity, and his body shaken all over.

Jessica didn’t slow down this time. She knew that there was no turning back. She just lamented that she was also in the verge of her own orgasm but wouldn’t reach it in time. An orgasm with her own son. She had delayed it as she didn’t wanted it, but this time she knew she wouldn’t have delayed it and she would have embraced it as an inevitability.

She rolled over again and allowed that Paul to be on top. He almost had no strength in his body after that huge marathon, but he still pumped her until the explosion. And Jessica felt his seed to invade her, thrust after thrust, filling her with his white cream, until he was empty and just succumbed with his head resting on her breasts, while his penis languished inside her.

“You didn’t come…”

“No…”

Somehow inside his body he gained forces to move. He begun to kiss her again, her breasts, her belly, sucking her bellybutton, and moving down leaving a trace of saliva. Her first reaction was to close her legs, but he didn’t allow it. He begun to lick her, attacking her inner body, her lips, her swollen clitoris, tasting her juices mixed with his white cream that already begun to leak.

Jessica launched a cry that could reach Arrakeen, he was still both clumsy and inexperienced, but he was tender and darting, so he gave her the final push that she needed and she flooded his face with her own juices.

She pulled him up and kissed him tenderly, wiping their mixed juices from his mouth.

They finally rested their sweaty bodies, still embraced, changing slow kisses and random caresses, dozing without wanting to talk.

After some time, Paul tried to concentrate in other matters. It was time to go. He glanced at the proximity detector on the floor, studying the dials illuminated in the blackness by phosphor tubes.

"It is already night," his mother said. "Why don’t you lift the tent shades?"

She had a musical voice. It was so long since he had heard the happiness of her singing. Paul realized then that her breathing had been different for some time, that she had lain silent in the darkness until certain he was awake. Without rationalizing he searched in the dark for her warm body to embraced her again.

She made no attempt to move away.

"Lifting the shades wouldn’t help," he said with his head resting on one of her breasts, looking to the other in the shadows. His soft breading ruffled her skin. "There’s been a storm. The tent’s covered by sand. I’ll dig us out soon."

He made a slow caress in her ruffled skin cupped her breast and played with the nipple.

"No sign of Duncan yet?"

He sat down.

"None."

Paul rubbed absently at the ducal signet on his thumb, and a sudden rage against the very substance of this planet which had helped kill his father set him trembling.

"I heard the storm begin," Jessica said.

The undemanding emptiness of her words helped restore some of his calm. His mind focused on the storm as he had seen it begin through the transparent end of their stilltent – cold dribbles of sand crossing the basin, then runnels and tails furrowing the sky. He had looked up to a rock spire, seen it change shape under the blast, becoming a low, Cheddar-colored wedge.

Sand funneled into their basin had shadowed the sky with dull curry, then blotted out all light as the tent was covered.

Tent bows had creaked once as they accepted the pressure, then–silence broken only by the dim bellows wheezing of their sand snorkel pumping air from the surface.

Jessica moved and came to him. She hugged him from behind. He sensed again her soft and firm full breasts brushing his back.

"Try the receiver again," Jessica said.

Paul didn’t want to move.

"No use," he said.

Finally he moved away from her. Searched for his stillsuit and begun to dress it. Jessica made the same. They dressed in silence, helping each other when it was needed.

He found his stillsuit’s watertube,, drew a warm swallow into his mouth, and he thought that here he truly began an Arrakeen existence–living on reclaimed moisture from his own breath and body. It was flat and tasteless water, but it soothed his throat.

Jessica heard Paul drinking, felt the slickness of her own stillsuit clinging to her body, but she refused to accept her thirst. To accept it would require awakening fully into the terrible necessities of Arrakis where they must guard even fractional traces of moisture, hoarding the few drops in the tent’s catchpockets, begrudging a breath wasted on the open air.

So much easier to drift back down into sleep.

But there had been a dream in this day’s sleep, and she shivered at memory of it. She had held dreaming hands beneath sandflow where a name had been written: Duke Leto Atreides. The name had blurred with the sand and she had moved to restore it, but the first letter filled before the last was begun.

The sand would not stop.

Her dream became wailing: louder and louder. That ridiculous wailing–part of her mind had realized the sound was her own voice as a tiny child, little more than a baby. A woman not quite visible to memory was going away.

My unknown mother, Jessica thought. The Bene Gesserit who bore me and gave me to the Sisters because that’s what she was commanded to do. Was she glad to rid herself of a Harkonnen child?

"The place to hit them is in the spice," Paul said.

How can he think of attack at a time like this? she asked herself.

"An entire planet full of spice," she said. "How can you hit them there?"

She heard him stirring, the sound of their pack being dragged across the tent floor.

"It was sea power and air power on Caladan," he said. "Here, it’s desert power. The Fremen are the key."

His voice came from the vicinity of the tent’s sphincter. Her Bene Gesserit training sensed in his tone an unresolved bitterness toward her.

All his life he has been trained to hate Harkonnens, she thought. Now, he finds he is Harkonnen... because of me. How little he knows me! I was my Duke’s only woman. I accepted his life and his values even to defying my Bene Gesserit orders.

The tent’s glowtab came alight under Paul’s hand, filled the domed area with green radiance.

Paul crouched at the sphincter, his stillsuit hood adjusted for the open desert–forehead capped, mouth filter in place, nose plugs adjusted. Only his dark eyes were visible: a narrow band of face that turned once toward her and away.

"Secure yourself for the open," he said, and his voice was blurred behind the filter.

Jessica pulled the filter across her mouth, began adjusting her hood as she watched Paul break the tent seal.

Sand rasped as he opened the sphincter and a burred fizzle of grains ran into the tent before he could immobilize it with a static compaction tool. A hole grew in the sandwall as the tool realigned the grains. He slipped out and her ears followed his progress to the surface.

What will we find out there? she wondered. Harkonnen troops and the Sardaukar, those are dangers we can expect. But what of the dangers we don’t know?

She thought of the compaction tool and the other strange instruments in the pack. Each of these tools suddenly stood in her mind as a sign of mysterious dangers.

She felt then a hot breeze from surface sand touch her cheeks where they were exposed above the filter.

"Pass up the pack." It was Paul’s voice, low and guarded.

She moved to obey, heard the water literjons gurgle as she shoved the pack across the floor. She peered upward, saw Paul framed against stars.

"Here," he said and reached down, pulled the pack to the surface.

Now she saw only the circle of stars. They were like the luminous tips of weapons aimed down at her. A shower of meteors crossed her patch of night. The meteors seemed to her like a warning, like tiger stripes, like luminous grave slats clabbering her blood. And she felt the chill of the price on their heads.

"Hurry up," Paul said. "I want to collapse the tent."

A shower of sand from the surface brushed her left hand. How much sand will the hand hold? She asked herself.

"Shall I help you?" Paul asked.

"No."

She swallowed in a dry throat, slipped into the hole, felt static-packed sand rasp under her hands. Paul reached down, took her arm. She stood beside him on a smooth patch of starlit desert, stared around. Sand almost brimmed their basin, leaving only a dim lip of surrounding rock. She probed the farther darkness with her trained senses.

Noise of small animals.

Birds.

A fall of dislodged sand and faint creature sounds within it.

Paul collapsing their tent, recovering it up the hole.

Starlight displaced just enough of the night to charge each shadow with menace. She looked at patches of blackness.

Black is a blind remembering, she thought. You listen for pack sounds, for the cries of those who hunted your ancestors in a past so ancient only your most primitive cells remember. The ears see. The nostrils see.

Presently, Paul stood beside her, said: "Duncan told me that if he was captured, he could hold out... this long. We must leave here now." He shouldered the pack, crossed to the shallow lip of the basin, climbed to a ledge that looked down on open desert.

Jessica followed automatically, noting how she now lived in her son’s orbit.

For now is my grief heavier than the sands of the seas, she thought. This world has emptied me of all but the oldest purpose: tomorrow’s life. I live now for my young Duke and the daughter.

She felt the sand drag her feet as she climbed to Paul’s side.

He looked north across a line of rocks, studying a distant escarpment.

The faraway rock profile was like an ancient battleship of the seas outlined by stars. The long swish of it lifted on an invisible wave with syllables of boomerang antennae, funnels arcing back, a pishaped upthrusting at the stern.

An orange glare burst above the silhouette and a line of brilliant purple cut downward toward the glare.

Another line of purple!

And another upthrusting orange glare!

It was like an ancient naval battle, remembered shellfire, and the sight held them staring.

"Pillars of fire," Paul whispered.

A ring of red eyes lifted over the distant rock. Lines of purple laced the sky.

"Jetflares and lasguns," Jessica said.

The dust-reddened first moon of Arrakis lifted above the horizon to their left and they saw a storm trail there–a ribbon of movement over the desert.

"It must be Harkonnen ’thopters hunting us," Paul said. "The way they’re cutting up the desert... it’s as though they were making certain they stamped out whatever’s there... the way you’d stamp out a nest of insects."

"Or a nest of Atreides," Jessica said.

"We must seek cover," Paul said. "We’ll head south and keep to the rocks. If they caught us in the open..." He turned, adjusting the pack to his shoulders. "They’re killing anything that moves."

He took one step along the ledge and, in that instant, heard the low hiss of gliding aircraft, saw the dark shapes of ornithopters above them.


End file.
